


Ravenous

by Anonymous



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Accidental Soulbond, Blood Drinking, Light Masochism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There's a reason certain things in the Belmont Hold are kept hidden away.





	Ravenous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



“There you are. Sypha and I were wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

Trevor finds Alucard in some dusty side room of the Belmont Hold, intently examining one of the thousands of strange objects Trevor’s ancestors had collected over the years. He doesn’t look up as Trevor approaches, apparently engrossed in whatever the thing is. 

“I’m busy,” Alucard says, distracted. “The engraving on this object is so strange—” He stops suddenly, frowning.

“Strange how?”

Truth be told, Trevor isn't actually all that interested since it's clearly not a weapon, but he still walks further into the room anyway, looking around with more curiosity than he’d expected to. Most of the stuff in the Hold was exactly that to him—just stuff, random curios that he felt no particular attachment to. But Trevor doesn’t think he’s ever been in this room before, hidden away as it was at the end of a labyrinth of twisting corridors and secret doors. It's stuffed to the brim with oddities that even he’s impressed by: preserved specimens of who-knows-what, eerily suspended in huge glass jars; a whole shelf of beautifully intricate, fully functional automatons; detailed maps of places he doesn’t recognise and written in languages he can’t even read. 

Alucard shakes his head, not even glancing up as Trevor wanders around the room. “I can read it,” he says. “But the words don’t quite make sense.”

“Strangely enough, that’s exactly how I’m feeling right now, listening to you.”

“Ha, ha,” Alucard replies, deadpan. He still hasn’t looked up and Trevor feels a wash of irritation at being so blatantly ignored.

“Why are you even so preoccupied with that bauble when there are far more interesting things in here?” Trevor asks, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “It just looks like a boring glass sphere.” 

“You almost sound jealous,” Alucard says. There’s the faintest touch of amusement in his voice and it makes Trevor grit his teeth. “Besides,” Alucard adds, eyes still focused on the stupid glass trinket, “looks can be very deceiving when it comes to magical artefacts.”

“Fine,” Trevor sighs, and steps closer. “Let me have a look then, if it’s so bloody interesting.”

He reaches out to take the sphere just as Alucard’s eyes go wide with sudden understanding.

“Wait, Trevor—don’t—!” 

Alucard’s voice is urgent but Trevor just rolls his eyes.

“Calm down, I’m not going to break it—”

His fingertips brush the sphere and the last thing Trevor sees before the world goes white is Alucard’s shocked and panicked face, his strange yellow eyes bright with horror. 

***

“Trevor. Wake up.” 

There are hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. 

“ _Trevor_.” 

More shaking, harder this time.

“Trevor, I swear on all that is unholy, if you don’t wake up right this fucking instant, I’ll—”

“I’m awake,” Trevor snaps. Or tries to, at least. His voice is hoarse and when he opens his eyes and sits up the whole world seems to tilt on its axis. He quickly closes his eyes again. There’s a heavy, pulsing pain in his head but more worrying is the strange deep ache in his chest—not a physical ache, not exactly. It’s something deeper, something that Trevor can’t quite explain, nor even properly describe.

He presses a hand against his forehead and groans.

“Why do I feel like I’ve been thrown into a wall?"

“Probably because you were,” Alucard replies. “The sphere released an enormous amount of energy when you touched it. It threw us both back like ragdolls.” 

“You were saying something,” Trevor says suddenly. “Right before I touched it.” 

When there’s no response, Trevor opens his eyes again. Alucard is watching him with a guarded look on his face but as soon as they make eye contact, something… something happens. Alucard’s expression doesn’t change at all but Trevor suddenly sees _everything_ , and even more inexplicably than that, he somehow understands everything, too. What that look on Alucard’s face means, what Alucard is trying to hold back, what Alucard is trying and failing to hide. And in that same instant, Trevor knows that Alucard can see him in the exact same way.

“Alucard,” Trevor says slowly. “What did the sphere do?”

“I was trying to tell you.” Alucard looks away and his voice goes quiet. “I worked out the translation right before you touched it.”

“And?”

“If two people touch it at the same time…” Alucard takes a breath and meets his eyes again. “It creates an irreversible soulbond between them.” 

Trevor just stares at him.

“I’m—we’re—to _each other_?”

“Yes.”

Trevor shakes his head. “No,” he says emphatically. “ _No_. That’s ridiculous. You read it wrong, or you misinterpreted it, or—or something.” He shakes his head again. “We’ll get Sypha to take a look at it, we all know she’s smarter than you anyway—” 

“Trevor,” Alucard interrupts. “You’re babbling.”

“If there was ever a time when babbling would be an appropriate response,” Trevor grits out, “finding out you’ve been accidentally soulbonded for fucking _eternity_ would be one of them, don’t you think?” 

“Perhaps,” Alucard says, with forced patience. “But I think the fact that you might be bleeding to death should take precedence, don’t you?” 

Trevor is suddenly aware of a throbbing pain in his left leg. He glances down and sees his trouser leg is soaked through with blood, dark and warm and sticky. There’s a jagged gash across the inside of his upper thigh; Trevor looks around the room and identifies the culprit—a large shard of glass from one of the shattered specimen jars, smeared opaque with something red. Blood, he thinks. _His_ blood.

“Brilliant,” Trevor mutters. He closes his eyes. “This day just gets better and better.”

“Oh, no you don't,” Alucard says. “Open your eyes. You can’t fall asleep.” Alucard gives him another hard shake, his grip on Trevor’s shoulders almost hard enough to bruise. “Trevor, can you hear me?” His voice sounds odd, thin and taut, like he’s—

“Are you worried about me?” 

Trevor opens his eyes again. Alucard’s face is unexpectedly close and his pupils have dilated a little—but not with fear, Trevor realises immediately, as the strange understanding clears his vision again. Not fear, not exactly. And then Trevor licks his lips, because the longer they stare at each other the clearer Trevor can see. The more he can understand. 

Alucard isn’t afraid.

“You’re hungry,” Trevor whispers. Alucard inhales sharply. “For more than just blood.” 

Alucard goes still. Very, _very_ still, inhumanly so. He could be carved from marble, all sharp lines and pale skin and long, golden hair, but his eyes—his eyes aren’t like stone at all. They’re dark with a need suppressed, burning with a heat that makes Trevor feel hot all over. Time seems to slow down, the rest of the world fading into a haze of unimportant nothingness as they sit there in the wreckage of the room, staring at each other in silence. There is only the sight of Alucard’s blazing eyes, the long fall of his bright hair, the soft, parted line of his mouth. There is only the sound of Alucard’s shallow breaths and the dizzying, _awful_ closeness of his body—awful because it was nowhere near close enough. 

Trevor shifts his bleeding leg. Just a little, but Alucard’s gaze is drawn to the movement immediately, just as Trevor had known it would be. Alucard, after all, was a hunter at his core, and a hunter’s instincts never changed even if the specifics of what he was hunting did. 

“Seems a shame to let it go to waste,” Trevor says.

Alucard stares at the blood that continues to seep out of Trevor’s leg, a steady dark stream that shows no sign of slowing down. He licks his lips and swallows hard.

“I can feel it breaking, Trevor.” Alucard’s voice is strained. “I can _feel_ it. The bond, it’s—it’s forcing my control to break.” His hands start to shake as his voice drops to a whisper. “It’ll shatter into a million pieces and I'll be—” He licks his lips again and despite the headache, despite the gash in his leg, Trevor’s cock twitches at the sight of Alucard's tongue as it slowly traces the curve of his bottom lip. Alucard goes very still again. 

“Alucard—”

“I need to get out of here.” There’s a faint edge of panic in Alucard’s voice now but he makes no move to leave. If anything, he leans even closer.

“You need to feed,” Trevor insists.

“I can’t—”

“I’m offering,” Trevor interrupts.

“You’re _dying_ ,” Alucard corrects. “You can’t lose much more blood and I—” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I won’t be able to stop.” 

“But you could stop the bleeding.” Alucard gives him a sharp, surprised look. “I have read _some_ of the books down here, you know.” He shrugs a little. “I know you can use your blood to heal me.” 

Trevor shifts again, spreading his legs wider, ignoring the hot stab of pain as the gash in his leg is torn further open. The new position does nothing to hide the growing hardness between his legs and Alucard stares at the outline of his cock with as much hunger as the blood that's still seeping out of him. 

“I’m offering,” Trevor repeats. “My blood… and anything else you may want to taste.” 

Alucard closes his eyes. Somehow Trevor can feel his struggle just as clearly as he can see it—Alucard’s jaw tightening, his hands curling into fists at his sides; a deep and ancient conflict within him that Alucard doesn’t believe he’ll ever truly resolve. And then Alucard goes still again, and Trevor doesn’t know how or why but he’s suddenly absolutely certain that Alucard is aware of Trevor's presence there with him, inside _and_ out, and inadvertently sharing the burden just by virtue of being there too. Trevor senses a shift within him, a conscious choice to push something aside as he comes to a sudden decision.

Alucard opens his eyes again. Trevor sucks in a breath, because there’s something indefinably different about him now—indefinable, but undeniable. Alucard smiles, small and sharp and almost predatory, and there’s a moment of apprehension before Trevor understands what he’s being allowed to see. This is Alucard revealing himself, Alucard showing Trevor what lay beneath the polished masks he wore to keep them all at a careful, measured distance. This is Alucard stripped to the baser instincts of vampire and human both—the hunger, the desire, the need. The thirst for blood, and for something else, too. 

He crawls closer, looking far less human than Trevor has ever seen him. But it only serves to make Trevor harder, and when Alucard peels the blood-soaked trousers from his legs Trevor can’t help but moan at the pleasure-pain of it, at the sense of something finally, _finally_ falling into place.

And then Alucard’s hands are on his bare thigh, caressing the muscle and coaxing out yet more blood, and before Trevor can process how good that feels Alucard’s mouth is on him too—cleaning the wound, tongue laving around the edges of it, lips trailing kisses up and down its jagged length. The cut goes almost all the way up to his groin and Trevor has to shut his eyes as Alucard’s mouth inches closer and closer to his hardening cock. But Alucard’s lips settle over the open wound instead, and when he starts sucking—gently at first, and then progressively harder—Trevor can’t stop from bucking his hips, can’t stop fisting one hand in Alucard’s soft gold hair. 

“ _God_ ,” Trevor moans. 

Alucard responds by sucking again, harder than before, and for some reason Trevor’s mouth starts to water as the taste of iron fills his mouth, as he feels something warm and sticky and humming with life flowing over his tongue and down his throat. Alucard makes a small noise, half-whimper, half-moan, his mouth still on Trevor’s thigh, his fingers digging into Trevor’s hips, and Trevor somehow knows that Alucard is experiencing the same thing—this blended reality, feeding and being fed on, giving and taking, all at the exact same time. It’s intense and disorienting and viciously arousing and if it feels this good when Alucard is feeding from him, Trevor can only guess what it would be like if Alucard was fucking him, too. 

Alucard’s fingers dig painfully into his skin before he suddenly pulls away again. He straightens up, panting, hair a dishevelled mess from Trevor tangling his hands in it, the lower half of his face a mess of blood and gore. When he licks his lips Trevor’s cock twitches again and Alucard—Alucard closes his eyes and looks away, trying in vain to catch his breath.

“I felt that,” he says hoarsely. “Felt your cock move when I licked my lips.”

“I felt my own blood in your mouth,” Trevor replies, just as rough. “Felt it going down your throat as you—” Trevor takes a breath. “As you sucked it right out of me.”

For a long moment, Alucard just sits there, unmoving, face still turned away. And then he runs his tongue over one long, sharp fang, drawing his own blood, before leaning down again and licking along the cut on Trevor’s thigh. His blood starts healing the wound immediately and Trevor gasps; it stings a little, but not in a bad way. But Alucard doesn't stop there, tongue moving up, up, up, until he reaches the base of Trevor's cock and then flicks along the length of it, leaving wet red trails as he goes.

The sight makes Trevor moan, as does the feeling of Alucard’s long fingers wrapping around him, of Alucard’s mouth slowly taking him in. Trevor can only stare as Alucard swallows him down, and then he has to shut his eyes again because Alucard’s cheeks hollow, and it feels so similar to Alucard sucking the blood out of his leg that Trevor knows he'll never be able to separate one from the other again—a mouth on his cock, a mouth drinking his blood; it all led to the same thing. Trevor feels a deep hunger well up inside him, unlike any he’s ever experienced before. 

“Alucard,” he gasps, as his cock hits the back of Alucard’s throat, as Alucard moans around him and tightens his fist. It feels so good, better than anything he’s ever had, but it’s still not quite enough and Trevor can’t explain why. “I need,” he pants, “Alucard, _please—_ ” 

Alucard gives his cock one last lick before he pulls back again. 

“Tell me.”

Trevor shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to articulate what he needs, not when Alucard is staring at him this intently, not when he isn’t even sure what it is he wants. All he knows is that he needs _something_ , and desperately.

“I can’t, I don’t know how—” 

Alucard leans forward. He presses one hand against Trevor's chest, a warm and oddly reassuring weight against his thundering heartbeat, and then Alucard leans down further, slowly, like he isn't sure what he's doing either, like maybe he's expecting Trevor to push him away. But Trevor doesn't, and some part of him knows with alarming certainty that he _can’t_ , and he stays absolutely still as Alucard’s face gets closer and closer to his own. Alucard’s eyes are trained on his mouth, blood-stained lips already parted in anticipation. Trevor knows what’s coming but it still takes him by surprise when Alucard’s mouth actually brushes his, just a soft press of lips before he pulls away again, just far enough to see Trevor's face. This close up, Alucard’s eyes might as well be the only thing in the entire world—pupils fully dilated now, surrounded by a thin ring of amber, and full of that insatiable hunger than Trevor feels too, clawing at his insides, clutching at his chest. 

Alucard’s breath ghosts over his lips. His mouth is still within reach; all either of them had to do was lean forward.

“Are you still hungry?” Trevor whispers.

Alucard licks his lips. 

“Always.”

It’s a confession as much as an answer, and Trevor can feel what it’s cost Alucard to admit it out loud—a hot flush of shame in his belly, a deeply-buried sense of guilt.

Trevor’s fingers twitch, the urge to pull Alucard closer growing more and more intense. He needs to feel skin against smooth, bare skin; he needs to get as close as he possibly can. 

Alucard gaze suddenly sharpens, as though sensing Trevor's thoughts. He ducks his head, nosing along Trevor’s neck and breathing him in. 

“You always wear these stupid shirts,” he says, whispered words hot against Trevor’s skin, “that you never button up all the way.” Alucard’s lips graze his throat and Trevor shivers. “You’re always such—” Alucard’s breathing goes shallow. “Such a fucking _tease_.” 

The hunger—the _thirst_ —is overwhelming now and Trevor has no idea how Alucard can stand it, how he can live with this constant need but do nothing at all to sate it. Especially when Trevor knows that Alucard could overpower him whenever he damn well pleased. 

“I’ve thought about it,” Trevor says, voice a rough whisper. One confession, he decides, deserves another. “I’ve touched myself, thinking about it.” Trevor swallows. “I’ve come, thinking about it.”

“I know,” Alucard whispers back. “I’ve heard you.” His lips brush over his neck again and Trevor can’t help arching into it, seeking more. “I’ve _smelled_ it on you.”

“Yet you did nothing about it.”

Alucard pulls back. His hand is still on Trevor's chest and his fingers curl a little, the heat from his skin burning even through the barrier of Trevor's shirt. 

“One thing I learned from a very young age," Alucard says, "was self-control.”

Trevor licks his lips. He tastes his own blood and the hunger abruptly intensifies. He has no idea if it’s Alucard’s or his own or some endless, ravening combination of both, but Alucard’s whole body is held taut above him and the distance between their bodies is maddening. 

“So what you’re saying,” Trevor replies, “is that I'll need to work hard to break it?” 

The ghost of a smile crosses Alucard’s face. “Spoken like a Belmont."

“Avoiding the answer like a vampire." 

Alucard’s eyes darken. 

“You want an answer, Trevor? You want the truth?”

He leans down again and licks at Trevor’s throat, a long firm stripe that scrapes over Trevor’s racing pulse. Trevor tastes the salt of his own skin, feels the intense rush of bloodlust in his own veins. He has to close eyes against it, against the terrible _nearness_ of what he needs, even though he has no idea what he wants more: blood or sex, violence or tenderness, pleasure or pain. And overlaying it all is that deep, driving hunger, all-encompassing and never-ending.

“The truth is, I’m _not_ in control right now,” Alucard whispers, right into Trevor’s ear. “The truth is, I don’t want to be.” Alucard ducks his head again, kissing along Trevor’s throat. “The truth is I want to suck you bone-dry, and I don’t much care whether it’s from your neck—” He licks over Trevor’s pulse point again, a slow and torturous tease. “Or from your cock.” 

One of Alucard’s hands brushes Trevor’s stomach before slowly drifting lower. Trevor tries to stay still, tries and fails, his whole body reacting on instinct, seeking more of Alucard’s hands, his lips, his tongue. 

“I want to fuck you against this wall while I feed from your throat,” Alucard continues. “I want you to _want_ me to do it.” 

Trevor’s cock gets impossibly harder and Alucard takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“The truth, Trevor,” Alucard whispers against his lips, “is that all you need to do to break my control is say yes.” 

Alucard’s gaze flicks up. Trevor has to swallow at what he sees burning in Alucard’s eyes—things there are no words for, but things Trevor still understands. Nothing else seems to matter, beyond the closeness of Alucard’s body and the bone-deep ache for Alucard’s touch—an ache that he suddenly knows he’ll always feel, _always_ , every day for the rest of his life. 

Alucard is shaking slightly, the enormity of what's happening hitting him too. He moves his hand again, brushing feather-light over Trevor’s painfully hard cock. 

“God,” Trevor whispers, closing his eyes, hips bucking from just that slight touch. 

“Trevor—”

“Yes.” Trevor swallows. "Alucard— _yes_."

For a moment there’s absolute silence as Alucard goes perfectly still. And then he makes a small, strangled sort of sound before everything seems to happen at once. He slams Trevor against the wall, kissing him hard and messy and desperate, hands tearing at fabric and ripping past buttons, seeking warm, bare skin. Trevor’s mouth opens and his legs spread under the assault, and Alucard takes full advantage of it, tongue pushing in as he starts stroking Trevor’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Trevor gasps, throwing his head back as he helplessly thrusts into Alucard’s tight fist. And then Alucard starts mouthing along his collarbone before descending on a nipple, licking and biting and sucking until Trevor is shaking beneath him, back arching, hands buried in his thick gold hair. 

“God, Alucard, _please—_ ” 

“I know,” Alucard says roughly. He lifts his head and gives Trevor another hard, dirty kiss. “I know.”

He pulls back and tightens his grip, watching Trevor’s face as he slows his hand down—so slow that Trevor’s jaw drops and his eyes squeeze shut.

“ _Alucard_ ,” he moans, practically begging and not even caring.

“Do you have any idea,” Alucard whispers, staring, “how you look right now?” He leans down and kisses him again, tongue fucking into Trevor’s mouth and matching the rhythm of his hand as it strokes Trevor’s cock. “I could,” he gasps between kisses, “I could _devour_ you.” 

Trevor manages to focus enough to reach out and drag Alucard closer, one hand closing over the curve of his hip and the other tracing the line of his cock through his trousers. Alucard is rock-hard beneath his fingers, hard and hot, and Alucard’s breath hitches when Trevor gives him a rough squeeze.

Trevor breaks the kiss and tilts his head to the side, as clear an offer as he can make.

“What are you waiting for, then?”

Alucard stares down at him, panting, a wild light in his eyes that Trevor has never seen before. He wonders if Alucard can see something similar in his own eyes too; things he’s always wanted but never dared ask for, things he knew he needed but could never admit aloud. 

And then one of Alucard's hands starts pumping his cock again while the other reaches lower, further back, exploring and teasing until Trevor spreads his legs even wider, willing to do whatever he needed to in order to satisfy his need for more, always _more_. Alucard’s eyes go even darker at his shamelessness, even hotter, and Trevor feels the surge of lust in Alucard's veins as clearly as his own. 

A finger presses into him and Trevor’s eyes fall shut, hands gripping Alucard’s shoulders like he might fly apart if he doesn’t. But if anything it just makes the sense of need even worse, doing nothing but highlight the fact that it still isn’t enough.

“More,” he gasps, as Alucard curls his finger and Trevor’s whole body shudders in response. “More, _please_ —”

“Greedy, aren’t you?” Alucard says, but his voice is tight with need too. 

“You’re the one who said you wanted to fuck—me—oh, _god_ —”

Trevor chokes on the rest of his sentence when Alucard suddenly pulls his finger out and starts replacing it with his cock instead. He moves so fast that Trevor barely sees anything beyond a blur of pale skin and yellow hair, until he’s filling Trevor up in one long, slow thrust. Trevor isn’t ready, not quite, but the pain feels right somehow, seems fitting—nothing about this was easy and nor should it be, and the pain only made the pleasure that much more intense. 

Alucard is still slowly pushing in, inch by torturous inch, and the deliberate control he’s using now after moving with such speed before makes Trevor moan again, obscenely loud, the thought of Alucard fucking him like that making him almost incoherent with lust. Slow then fast, he thinks, fast and hard, harder than he’s ever been fucked before—

“Is that what you want, Trevor?” 

Alucard voice is very quiet. Trevor opens his eyes, unaware that he’d been speaking out loud. 

“I—”

Alucard suddenly slams in the rest of the way, and Trevor can do nothing but stare into the possessive gleam in Alucard’s eyes as his hips start moving, as he starts pounding into Trevor with hard, brutal thrusts. 

“Trevor,” Alucard pants against his mouth. “I still—”

Trevor cuts him off by stealing a kiss before pulling back again—all the way back, until his head hits the wall behind him. He tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck again, and Alucard abruptly goes still. 

“Trevor,” he repeats. His voice is shaking.

Alucard's bloodlust is screaming now. Trevor can feel it—a savage, excruciating thing that makes his hands tremble and his heart race. Alucard slowly thrusts back in as he leans forward and Trevor bites his lip—there’s no predicting what Alucard will do, how he’ll move, how he’ll fuck, and it’s driving Trevor mad. Alucard’s hands close around his wrists, pressing them into the wall at either side of his head.

“You don’t have to do that,” Trevor manages to say. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, I know,” Alucard replies, just as breathless. “I just like the way you look, when you’re like this.” His eyes are fixed on Trevor’s throat.

“And what do I look like?”

Alucard rolls his hips again and Trevor strains against his grip, needing to feel Alucard’s skin beneath his hands, needing to dig his fingers in and mark it with bruises and scratches and bites. The fact that he knows they’ll be healed by morning just makes him want it more. 

Alucard leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss against Trevor’s pulse point, licking and licking at the skin there as though he wants to swallow Trevor’s very heartbeat. And then Trevor feels the tell-tale scrape of fangs against his neck, sharper and narrower than normal teeth, and the sound he makes is ripped from somewhere deep inside him, a place torn open by the violence of his need. 

Alucard smiles against his skin. 

“You look like you want to beg,” he says.

“Is that what you want?” Trevor tries to ask, only it comes out mangled, a formless pile of gasps and moans as Alucard shifts the angle of his thrusts, finding the one that makes Trevor cry out, lost in a full-body shudder. His own hips start moving too, meeting Alucard thrust for thrust, and Trevor has never felt so undone before, his own body moving purely on instinct, completely out of his control. 

Alucard’s fangs scratch at his skin again. 

“You know what I want, Trevor.”

And Trevor does, of course he does—he can _feel_ it, the hunger, the desire, the thirst. He knows what Alucard wants, and Trevor—Trevor wants it too. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Alucard, _please_ —”

“Be specific,” Alucard demands. He pulls out almost all the way before slowly pushing back in again, the movement making his bare stomach brush over Trevor’s aching cock. 

“Oh, _Christ_ ,” Trevor gasps, shutting his his eyes. It’s too much, his cock too sensitive as Alucard keeps hitting the sweet spot inside him, over and over again.

“Tell me, Trevor. Specifics.”

“Feed,” Trevor pants. “Feed on me.” 

Trevor forces his eyes open and finds himself looking right into Alucard’s eyes. Neither of them look away as Alucard keeps rolling his hips, fucking Trevor slowly, his fangs catching the flickering light of the torches that line the walls. Trevor can’t even struggle against the grip around his wrists anymore—there’s only the feeling of Alucard moving inside him, and his entire body only seems interested in getting more.

“I want you to drink from me,” Trevor whispers against Alucard's bloodied mouth. “And for the love of god,” he adds with another moan, “don’t stop fucking me.”

Alucard smiles again. With his face smeared with blood and his fangs glinting in the low light, he looks like some kind of wild animal, feral and untamed. 

“I think I can manage that,” Alucard says. He claims Trevor’s lips again before his mouth moves lower, teeth scraping down Trevor’s neck and making him shiver. Trevor expects more teasing, expects to be made to wait, and is entirely unprepared when Alucard’s fangs suddenly pierce his skin, plunging deep into his neck as Alucard’s cock thrusts back into him too. 

Trevor can't help it. He cries out and Alucard lets his wrists go, one hand yanking Trevor’s head to the side and the other clutching at Trevor’s bare thigh, manhandling him into a better position—for the fucking as well as the feeding. Trevor wastes no time taking advantage of his freedom, fisting Alucard’s hair in his hands as Alucard starts to drink, eyes shut tight as sensations start to overwhelm him. 

It’s impossible to separate what’s his and what isn’t; he’s fucking and being fucked, drinking and being drunk from. There’s intense relief as his terrible thirst is finally slaked, even as the pain of the bite makes him light-headed. And it _is_ pain, sharp and stinging, clawing at his insides like a thousand dull blades as Alucard takes what he needs, consequences be damned.

But it’s pleasure too, and not just because Alucard is true to his word and keeps fucking him, slowly and steadily, pushing in as he sucks at Trevor's throat and pulling out as he swallows. The pain _itself_ is pleasure, in a twisted, perverse way, and although Trevor has never thought of himself as a masochist before he can’t deny that right now, willingly trapped under Alucard’s mouth and body, he’s never felt this good before. 

“ _God_ ,” he gasps, when Alucard starts speeding up again, hips moving faster and faster as he sucks harder and harder. It’s like nothing Trevor has ever felt, a dozen contradictions all at once; pleasure and pain, need and satisfaction, being filled and being emptied, all at the same time. Trevor’s nails dig into Alucard’s shoulders and Alucard makes a small noise against his skin, slamming in harder as Trevor feels something warm and wet beneath this fingers, having clutched at Alucard so tightly that he drew blood himself. 

“Do you like that?” he manages to ask, breathless, panting. “Pain for pain, Alucard? Blood for blood?”

Trevor feels the answering moan as clearly as he hears it, a vibration against his throat that goes straight to his leaking cock. He slides a hand down between their bodies but before he can wrap his fingers around himself Alucard suddenly grabs his wrist. 

“Alucard,” Trevor starts, desperate, but Alucard pulls back and lifts his head. He looks Trevor in the eye as he takes hold of both of Trevor’s wrists again, then holds them against the wall in one hand, above Trevor’s head.

“No,” Alucard says. “You’ll come,” he whispers, still not breaking eye contact, “on my cock and my cock alone.” 

He punctuates his words with a slow roll of his hips, so slow that Trevor’s whole body reacts on instinct, his own hips pushing forward and clenching so hard that it takes them both by surprise. They both cry out, Alucard’s fingers tightening around Trevor’s wrists to the point of pain and beyond. 

“You can feel it, can’t you,” Trevor pants. “What I’m feeling as you fuck me. How it feels when you’re drinking me dry.”

“And you feel what I feel,” Alucard says, voice low and rough. “You know—" He cuts off as he rolls his hips again, moaning wordlessly against Trevor’s open mouth. “You know what I want you to feel next.”

And then he bends his head again, fangs sinking in deep, and without any warning he speeds up again, too—slamming in so fast, so _hard_ that Trevor can’t even make a noise. All he can do is close his eyes and surrender to it, an overwhelming feeling of _rightness_ welling up in a way he can’t explain. Like a key fitting into a lock, or a perfectly aimed strike with the morningstar, or—or Alucard knowing exactly how to take him apart, thrust by brutal thrust, mouthful by bloody, dripping mouthful. 

At the back of his mind Trevor knows they’re skating close to real danger; his head is swimming and he isn't sure if Alucard will know when to stop. And then Alucard’s fangs sink in again, even deeper this time, harder, at the same time as Alucard hits the spot inside him that makes him shudder, and the shock of pain is so intense, as intense as the swell of pleasure, that it suddenly becomes too much to bear. Trevor comes with his eyes shut tight and Alucard’s name on his lips, cock untouched and whole body entirely out of his control.

Alucard responds by fucking him even harder, even faster, and although Trevor feels Alucard tensing up, body held taut even as he keeps drinking and drinking, unable to stop—it still catches Trevor by surprise when Alucard comes too, moaning against his throat, fangs and cock still buried inside him and _shaking_ with the force of it, as unable to control himself as Trevor had been. 

They’re both still catching their breath when Alucard heals the puncture wounds on Trevor’s neck. He pulls Trevor’s arms down too, staring at the bruises that are already starting to blossom around Trevor’s wrists. 

“They’ll heal,” Trevor says.

Alucard is silent for a moment. His breathing is almost back to normal and his face is almost blank, but Trevor can sense the wild swirl of emotions that churn beneath the surface, and knows they’re barely held in check. 

“This won't,” Alucard replies, and presses one hand against Trevor’s chest.

Trevor closes his eyes. He understands—of course he understands, he can’t _not_ , not anymore. When he opens them again, Alucard’s face is as grave as Trevor has ever seen it. He wraps his fingers around Alucard’s wrist and squeezes until he feels Alucard’s pulse against his palm—a rapid, racing beat. Fighting the bond would be futile; he knows that now, they both do. 

“We could try looking on the bright side,” Trevor says. He tries to keep his voice light and doesn’t quite manage it, but there’s a flicker of relief at the edges of his mind now—Alucard’s relief, Trevor realises, but he doesn’t really understand what it means.

“Oh?” Alucard raises an eyebrow but his eyes are serious as he waits for Trevor to elaborate.

“Well,” Trevor says, after a heavy pause, “now there’s a never-ending source of great sex for me and a never-ending supply of delicious meals for you.”

Alucard just stares at him. Eventually, the barest trace of a smile starts in his eyes before spreading, slowly, to the corners of his mouth.

“What makes you think I find your blood tastier than any random human’s?” he asks.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Trevor reaches up and cups Alucard's jaw, running his thumb over his bottom lip and wiping away a sticky smear of his own blood. “Maybe the fact that your face is covered with it could be a clue, though. A small one.”

Trevor is caught completely off guard when Alucard leans into his touch. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible, but perceptible enough that Trevor knows with absolute certainty that Alucard had done it on purpose.

“That reminds me,” Alucard says. “You need to eat something. You’ll feel ill if you don’t.”

“That doesn’t sound like a denial,” Trevor points out.

Alucard bows his head for a moment and Trevor lets his hand fall away from his face.

“No,” Alucard agrees, lifting his head again. “It doesn't.”

***

“Fascinating.”

Sypha is bent over the remains of the sphere, having spent several days painstakingly piecing the broken shards back together—as well as she could, anyway, since parts of it had been reduced to dust.

Neither Trevor nor Alucard even bothered trying to keep what happened in the Hold a secret from her—they both knew that Sypha would notice at once that something had changed. Trevor hadn’t been surprised when her first reaction, beyond the initial shock, wasn’t anger over taking stupid risks or frustration about the destruction of priceless artefacts—it was deep, genuine worry, for both of them.

Alucard, however, _had_ been surprised. Trevor felt it, along with the corresponding rush of fondness and gratitude, despite the fact that Alucard’s face barely showed anything at all. It made Trevor wonder just how much he’d been missing all this time, made him wonder what else Alucard had been hiding behind those inscrutable gold eyes.

All three of them are in the dining room now, the remains of their lunch pushed to the side while Sypha studied what was left of the sphere.

“And?” Alucard prompts, when Sypha doesn’t elaborate.

“Hmm?” She looks up, distracted.

“Please don’t tell me ‘fascinating’ is all you have to say about it,” Trevor says. “You must be able to read more of the inscription that Alucard could.”

“Excuse me,” Alucard protests. “I could read almost all of it.”

“Yeah,” Trevor says, rolling his eyes a little. “All of it except the most important part.”

“I figured that out too.” Alucard shrugs. “It’s not my fault you can’t stop yourself from touching shiny objects.”

“You were the one who was looking at it in the first place!”

“Only because I was—”

“Too stupid to wait for Sypha to help—”

“I don’t need help with transla—”

“You missed something!” Sypha suddenly shouts, cutting off the argument just as it was gathering steam.

Alucard and Trevor fall silent.

“You missed something, Alucard,” she repeats, quieter now. Her face is oddly serious, although there’s a spark of something in her eyes that Trevor can’t quite place.

Alucard frowns. Trevor feels his growing apprehension; an unpleasant queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, a growing tightness in his chest.

“What something?” Alucard asks.

Sypha passes him one of the glass shards, engraved with a fragment of text in a language Trevor doesn't recognise.

“Do you know what it says?” Sypha asks.

Alucard’s frown deepens as he studies it.

“Something about circles? Closing circles, or completing a circle...” He shakes his head. “I understand the words but not the meaning.”

Sypha takes the shard back and carefully puts it back in place.

“It’s poetry,” she says. “It’s not meant to be taken literally.”

“What does it mean, then?” Trevor asks.

Sypha smiles. The look on her face is impossible to read but her eyes are so full of warmth that Trevor can’t help but feel a little reassured. He feels the same thing coming from Alucard—a kind of spreading calm that eases the knot his chest.

“It was a clause,” Sypha says. “A failsafe, you could say. The bond could only activate on one specific condition.”

Trevor knows that Alucard understands what Sypha is saying before he does himself. An unidentifiable feeling bubbles up in his chest, something like surprise mixed in with something else, something he hasn’t felt from Alucard before. In fact, Trevor gets the sense that it might be something Alucard hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“What condition?” Alucard asks, more for Trevor’s benefit than his own.

Sypha’s smile widens.

“The bond wouldn’t have formed,” she says slowly, “if there was nothing to build on to begin with.”

Trevor can feel Alucard’s eyes on him as Sypha’s words sink in. And then he hears Alucard’s sharp intake of breath, because when Trevor finally understands the feeling he got from Alucard before—the lightness in his chest, the sweet warmth that’s still spreading through his whole body—Trevor starts feeling it too, and the endless loop of both their reactions makes it a little hard to breathe.

“And here I thought you were only after my house,” Alucard says, aiming for deadpan and missing entirely. His hand slides across the table, fingertips brushing over Trevor’s knuckles; a wordless, feather-light question.

“And here I thought you were only after my blood,” Trevor replies. He laces their fingers together; a silent, definitive answer. It’s surprising how easy it is, how quickly Alucard responds. Or not so surprising, really. Not anymore. Trevor stares at their joined hands for a moment before looking up.

Alucard’s got another one of those smiles on his face, the kind that’s clearer in his eyes than on his mouth.

“Seems like a fair deal to me,” Alucard says.

“Yeah,” Trevor agrees. “Very fair.”

He grins when the warm feeling intensifies. Whether it’s his or Alucard’s doesn’t seem to matter.


End file.
